


The Day Tony Stark Said 'I Love You'

by Duchess_On_Fire



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Rogers, Frottage, JARVIS being a bro, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Tony Stark, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Self-Lubrication, Steve being his usual perfect self, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark has a heart and no idea what to do with it, Tony cockblocking himself, Top Tony Stark, maybe a bit of plot if you squint, with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25884514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchess_On_Fire/pseuds/Duchess_On_Fire
Summary: The day Tony Stark said 'I Love You' and the day Steve Rogers was kind enough to pretend it was just business as usual.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 21
Kudos: 174





	The Day Tony Stark Said 'I Love You'

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone.  
> This is my first fic in this fandom, as well as my first fic dabbling in the A/B/O universe so feel free to give me pointers if you see anything that doesn't work.  
> Also, even though I have a pretty strong grasp of English, it is not my first language, so don't hesitate to tell me if you spot any grammar/spelling mistake.

Tony stumbled into the room, swearing under his breath at the stray clothes that had wrapped themselves around his feet, nearly sending him sprawling on the floor, and which refused to untangle from his ankles and the sole of his shoes.

“I told you to pick those up before we left for the party,” came a muffled voice from his left.

Even in the pitch blackness of the bedroom, Tony recognized the sleepy mumble of a super soldier muttering in his pillow. God he hoped that Steve was naked under the sheets. Now that the image of a pliant, barely awake, naked Steve had ingrained itself in his mind, Tony found himself drawn to it like a moth to a flame and he instinctively stepped toward the bed, and promptly ended face first on the expensive carpet.

Right. The clothes.

“First of all,” Tony spat out soft tendrils of the carpet which clung to his tongue. “First of all, I thought you would pick them up on your way to bed. Second of all,” and here, he gave up trying to free himself and simply got on his elbows and started crawling forward, “that was all entirely premeditated and I am now in the perfect position to go to bed with a minimum amount of noise, thus leaving your beauty rest undisturbed. Listen,” and he kept crawling, rubbing his stomach on the carpet for emphasis, “not a whisper. I am a goddamn genius.”

“Right,” came Steve’s dry reply, and Tony yelped as a strong hand suddenly grabbed him by the back of his shirt – and where on earth had his jacket disappeared to? He was pretty sure he had gone to the party with a jacket and a silk vest and tie – and hauled him onto the bed which was actually far closer than Tony had anticipated in his blind journey across the floor. “Here, I might as well save you from breaking your nose on that expensive bed frame of yours.”

“Shankyou” Tony mumbled from where he was now sprawled on top of Steve, his face smashed against the super soldier’s naked ribs. A little grabby motion of his fingers down south informed him that Steve was in fact wearing pajama bottoms under the sheets, and wasn’t that the most disappointing thing that had happened to him all day. As a petty revenge, he pressed his nose closer to Steve’s warm skin, inhaling the crisp alpha scent of green apples and fresh snow that still managed to halt all the synapses in his mind even six months after getting into Captain America’s pants for the first time. If Tony had been a considerate partner, he would have thought of how his own body must reek of booze, sweat and boozy sweat, and would have at least offered to go take a shower. As it happened, the last shred of his decency had gone down the drain with the old fashioned that Rhodey had spilled on his jacket earlier that evening and, oh right, that’s where he had left his jacket – in the men’s room where he and Rhodey had attempted to clean it in spite of the fact that none of them could even stand straight at that point, let alone figure out how to remove alcohol stains from consciously-grown velvet.

“How was the rest of the party?” Steve asked, his fingers treading softly through Tony’s hair, detangling them from what was probably a scandalous amount of cotillion, confetti and glitter.

“Great”, Tony mumbled, his nose and mouth still mushed against Steve’s ribs. “Rhodey let his date drive and she crashed his birthday present into the pool. But I knew he’d do something stupid like that so I got him two Maseratis. ‘Cos I’m a goddamn genius.”

Instead of agreeing with Tony and enthusiastically tackling him into the sheets like he hoped, Steve made a soft sound at the back of his throat. “Everyone okay? No one injured?”

If his eyes hadn’t been closed, he would have rolled them. “Everyone’s fine, the girl just cried because her dress was designer and she was supposed to give it back after the party. I told her I’d pay for it, and I told Rhodey to stop dating Victoria Secret angels.”

“Aren’t you the one who reached out to her to set her up with him for his birthday?”

He opened his eyes, but of course he was still blind as a bat in the dark room, so he fumbled around until he got his hand on what he hoped was Steve’s nipple and pinched it. However, since Steve had a chemically-engineered tolerance for pain, he didn’t make a sound, and Tony wasn’t sure what he had grabbed.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he exclaimed indignantly. “And what exactly am I holding right now?”

“Piece of confetti that fell from your hair.” Of course, the bastard with the enhanced night vision sounded amused.

“God, I hate you.” Then, because he was drunk, in bed, and he had a half-naked Steve under – most of – his fingers, he pressed his hips forward until the hard bulge of his pants rubbed against Steve’s thigh, the separation of their clothes and the bedsheets just thin enough to drive him slightly mad. “Can we have sex? I’ve been horny and thinking about you all night.”

Steve made a noncommittal sound and kept on stroking Tony’ hair soothingly, seemingly unfazed by the fact that he had Tony Stark humping his leg like a dog. And he probably was. After all, the very first time they had sex – if it could even be counted as sex – Tony had gotten off just like that. In his defense, when Steve Rogers, Captain America, leader of the Avengers, Alpha male of everyone’s dreams, had him pinned against the bar of the deserted common room, whispering in his ear that he wanted Tony – _Tony_! Of all people! – to get between his legs and fuck him, the throbbing need to come had been so desperate and urgent that Steve’s jean-clad, muscular thigh had seemed like the perfect way to release the trembling heat that had been balling up inside him.

Dignified? Probably not. Satisfying? Abso-frickin-lutely.

Long story short, Tony had zero qualm about humping his way to orgasm tonight. Well, this morning. What time was it? Probably too late (early?) for Steve to be interested in one of their round of athletic sex. Well… athletic for Steve, since he was often the one doing the grunt work while Tony’s role was mostly to provide enthusiastic encouragement and a healthy amount of slick so that his dick could find its way into Steve’s ass as smoothly as possible. It was sure hard to be a rich, privileged omega with an inhumanly sexy boyfriend who insisted on getting fucked into the nearest surface at least four times a week. Honestly, Tony didn’t know how he got himself out of bed in the morning.

“Sure,” Steve chimed, bringing Tony’s usual inner rambling and slightly less usual grinding of the hips to a halt.

“Wait, what?”

Steve chuckled and, even in the dark, Tony knew that he was looking down at him fondly, like every time he managed to pull Tony out of the crazy, lopsided, sleep-deprived, coffee-fueled, fast-speeding train that was his own mind.

“I said sure, we can have sex.”

After a beat, and once it was pretty clear to both parties in the room that Tony was not actually moving anymore, he felt Steve shifting under him, his fingers gently releasing his hair to settle at the nape of his neck, and yes, Tony was drunk as a skunk, but it would take nothing short of alcohol poisoning to prevent him from arching back into the touch like a cat.

“Unless you don’t want to? If you are too tired, I can let you sleep. It’s almost time for my morning run anyway.”

It took all of Tony’s efforts – and a little help from Steve – to hoist himself up on his hands, one on each of Steve’s (warm, always so goddamn warm) shoulders.

“Rogers. Cap. Captain. There is not a single alternate reality in the multiverse where I would choose sleep rather than sex with you. And if I’m wrong, and there is in fact a Tony Stark going about his business in some god-forsaken corner of the world and if he is dumb enough to say no when you are offering him to have his wicked way with your body, then I will find him and _blast him_ into next week. Now open my pants for me, I can’t see where my fingers are.”

Steve huffed but obediently started unbuckling Tony’s pants with one hand, while the other was shoving the thin sheets that had been separating them aside.

“You just can’t do anything yourself, can you?”

“Why would I, when I have you and JARVIS?”

“I am so very honored to be included, sir,” came JARVIS’ dry reply, and now that Tony was thinking about it, he wondered if Steve and his AI were spending too much time together. They were starting to sound awfully similar.

“Hush, you know the rules, you don’t get to talk during sexy time.”

Tony felt Steve smile from where he had been pressing soft, open-mouth kisses on his throat.

“I thought that rule was about me.”

Tony swallowed and pretended very hard not to be affected by the way Steve traced the bobbing of his Adam’s apple with his tongue.

“Oh no,” he panted. “You get to keep making noise. You keep, _oh god_ , y-you, you keep begging me to fuck you in that sweet, sweet voice of yours.”

“Right, because I’m the one who does the begging here.”

“Fuck yes,” Tony breathed. He would go to his grave saying that was a cocky reply to Steve’s snark, and not a sound wrenched from his throat when Steve thrusted his hips up, rubbing the front of his pajamas against the hard line of Tony’s cock which was straining against his underwear, peaking from the open fly of his pants. And really, why the fuck was he still dressed? He had given Steve one job, and it didn’t even require any super serum strength to accomplish it. The friction of soft cotton against his dick was excruciating and the feeling of Steve’s own erection pushing toward him, poking through the flannel of his pajamas, dragging against his hipbones and stomach, was enough to drive him insane.

“I really have to do everything myself around here,” he mumbled as he pried one of his hands away from where it had been clenching Steve’s shoulder and got it around his cock, pushing his briefs out of the way. The feeling of his hot palm, warmed by the prolonged contact with Steve’s own overheated skin, against his dick was enough to wrench another moan out of him, and he was suddenly jerking off hard and fast, unable to stop himself and get on with the rest of his plan – which had been to undress Steve, flip him on his stomach and give him the ride of his life.

But that was okay. Steve had been steadily dating him for about six months, unsteadily having sex with him for seven, and had been more generally putting up with Tony for over a year. He was probably used to being disappointed by now. Even in the sex department.

 _Especially_ in the sex department, if he was being honest, and here Tony had to mentally shake off the memories of all the times he had shot his load way too soon while inside _and_ outside of Steve. At this point, it was useless to pretend that his sexual record with Rogers was anything other than embarrassing, and what the fuck Steve was getting out of this whole relationship was still a mystery to Tony. Even if it was true that most alphas didn’t usually go around getting hot around the ears at the idea of being fucked by an omega, Tony didn’t doubt that Steve could have his pick of any number of omegas willing to switch it up in the bedroom. With his abs, and his face, and his body, and his whole personality, it was still a wonder why he bothered with Tony at all.

“I thought you wanted to screw me,” came the hot murmur against his throat, immediately followed by the warm-wet-thrilling sensation of a tongue pressing flat against the underside of his jaw.

Case in point.

“Right, yes, definitely. I’ll get right on that. Just gimme a minute to…”

And here Tony squirmed, and frowned down in the general direction of his cock – for fuck’s sake, he really needed to ask JARVIS to switch on the lights – and winced because even though the sensation of his own hand was pretty fucking good, something was definitely wrong. He clenched his ass reflexively, waiting for the usual trickle of slick to run down the back of his thighs but…

“Fuck.”

Then, after a second attempt.

“ _Fuck_!”

“What’s wrong?” Steve’s voice had lost its teasing edge and was now deadly neutral. If Tony could see, he’d bet his eyebrows were drawn tight, his eyes straight and focused ahead, full on Captain America-I’m-here-to-kick-ass-and-drink-milk-and-I’ve-just-finished-my-milk serious expression.

“I’m dry. I’m actually dry,” Tony’s own voice sounded incredulous. “How the fuck am I dry right now? I spent all night embarrassingly wet just thinking about you, upstairs and naked in bed.”

Now that it was clear that there was no life-threatening issue at stake – though Tony would argue that it was –, Steve’s tone turned placating:

“It’s alright, Tony. We can– ”

“No, it’s not alright! For fuck’s sake, when you left the party I had to go to the bathroom and change underwear because Rhodey said I smelled like our dorm at MIT where I used to throw orgies and he didn’t need this kind of reminder on his birthday. That’s how wet I was until my body suddenly stopped cooperating! What the fuck, guys? Are you on vacation right now? Started a union? There are usually negotiations involved before you go on full-on strike!”

Steve, bless his heart, ignored Tony’s furious rambling at his own body, and instead clasped his fingers around Tony’s jaw, forcing him to look up in the general direction of his face.

“You _changed?_ Tony, why didn’t you call me? Or have JARVIS send for me? I’m ten floors up, I could have come down and helped you.”

Tony snorted, which was his usual reaction to Steve being his adorable, naïve self. That and a good eye roll.

“Cap, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been changing underwear three times a day since you and I started boning. Probably even before that if I’m being honest with myself. Your very presence in the Avengers team is the reason I’ve had to make my iron suit waterproof from the inside as well as from the outside.”

Steve’s fingers jerked against his jaw and Tony would bet half his car collection that he was blushing, a red haze at the tip of his ears that slowly dissolved into a pink hue across his nose and cheekbones. God, he had it bad for the guy. Which was even more embarrassing considering that he was currently unable to perform the one thing that Steve was getting out of their relationship apart from heartburns and headaches.

“I can’t believe I’m fucking dry. We need lube. Do I even own lube? JARVIS, get someone to bring us lube right now.”

“JARVIS, cancel that order! It’s almost five in the morning, Tony. I’ll go get us lube tomorrow at a reasonable hour.”

“Do you even know where to buy lube?” The hilarious image of Steve, in full Captain America gear, startling a pharmacy cashier by dropping a shopping cart filled with lube flashed before his eyes, and Tony was about to open his mouth and beg Steve to let him come with him so he could record the whole thing when he was suddenly flipped on his stomach, his face pressed into the pillows: “Woah. Hey, what are we– oh _fuck_!” Tony gasped, clenching his teeth when he felt his pants and underwear being dragged down the curve of his ass. It was like all the breath had been knocked out of him and it took him a few seconds to get his vitals under control and to realize that, yes, it was in fact the round, hot tip of Steve’s dick pressing between his cheeks.

“What are you doing?” He absolutely did not whine, panting into the pillows as if he had been running a marathon on 5th Avenue during a heat wave.

“Just getting you started,” and really, Steve’s voice had absolutely no business being this composed, not when Tony had to keep rubbing his chest on the sheets just to remind himself that he didn’t have an arc reactor anymore, and that his heart was not about to fail him. “Is that okay?”

Tony sucked in a breath of air and blinked in the dark. Was it okay? Was it okay for Steve Rogers, the man Tony had been steadily falling in love with for the past few months while desperately trying to ignore it before it was too late and he screwed everything up like he always did, to fuck him? Was it okay for the sexiest, kindest, most adorable, most gorgeous alpha, the one who had spread his legs for Tony countless times, who had sucked him and rimmed him and jerked him for hours, to get inside him? _Was it okay?_ Gosh, Steve was an idiot.

Tony kinda wanted to marry him.

“Hell yes, it’s okay. It’s 100% okay. Absolutely A-okay. It’s – it’s… JARVIS, let the record show I’m giving full consent here.”

“Duly noted, sir,” JARVIS answered and then, because JARVIS was a real bro, “You may go ahead, Captain Rogers.”

Steve let out a little puff of embarrassed laughter, like he used to the first few times JARVIS had chimed in while they were doing the horizontal tango. Well, more like vertical, if Tony’s coming in his pants while pinned between the bar and Steve was taken into account. But then that would just make it regular tango, wouldn’t it?

“I’m not going to get inside,” Steve finally said, and it took Tony a few seconds for his thoughts to gather and register was he was saying. “I’m just going to try and…” The slow drag of his dick up and down the cleft of Tony’s ass felt like a sucker punch, like every single one of his nerve endings was on fire under his skin, like being zapped after touching the wrong wires in his suit, “get things going for you. Alright?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes.” Then, when he got his breathing under control, he realized how desperate and pathetic he sounded. “I mean, yes,” he coughed, hoping that Steve would just get on with it so he would have an excuse for his inane rambling.

“Alright then,” and Tony could hear him licking his lips, which meant that he was only pretending to be cool and detached from the whole thing, as if rubbing his dick against Tony’s hole to make him wet was similar to jumpstarting a car. An inconvenience but a minor one, easily solved and quickly forgotten.

Here was the thing: being born an omega, male, female or otherwise, meant going through puberty knowing that you would be regularly at the receiving end of things – dicks, fingers, tongues, sextoys, didn’t matter. It was sort of expected that in the pyramid of sexual activities, omegas were at the bottom, alphas at the top and betas, the lucky sons of bitches, happily swimming in the middle. Now, Tony was a child of the seventies and had spent his adolescence woefully unsupervised and thousands of miles away from any kind of authority figure, so he had done the whole sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll shtick. He had topped, he had bottomed, he had done both at the same time, had cruised through alphas, betas and omegas like they were tasting samples at Costco, males and females alike. But no matter how wild or kinky his partners had been, there had always been this underlying message that everyone had understood even if none of the liberal, alcohol-soaked, drug-addled people he had sex with would willingly admit aloud: omegas were meant to be fucked and alphas were meant to do the fucking. Switching once in a while was okay, and even encouraged so that everyone could have a good time, but it was just that: once in a while. And Tony had never been one to disagree with that. Some of the most intense orgasms of his life had come from Pepper riding him, riding his dick, riding his face, her delicately manicured fingers digging relentlessly into his scalp as she fucked him, her clean alpha scent – fresh laundry and lavender and hot summers in Provence – making the wild gears in his brains come to a halt. He wasn’t the one who wanted to topple the whole socio-sexual order of the world.

Apparently, Steve Rogers was.

Now, Tony had grown up, like most children his age, reading Captain America comics, but unlike most children his age, his father had actually met Captain America and the closest thing to a bedtime story Tony had ever gotten from his father were tales about Steve Rogers, the manliest of alpha males, team leader of the Howling Commando and savior of WW2.

So when Tony had met the actual Steve Rogers and discovered that he wasn’t just brave, headstrong, commanding, righteous like his father had told him, but also hot as hell, kind and funny and shy and so deliciously awkward, of course Tony had fantasized about getting bent over the nearest surface and fucked within an inch of his life by Captain America. Even Romanoff, Black Widow, Russian spy, voted most attractive female beta in the Western hemisphere, still got a little gleam in her eyes whenever Steve removed his sweat-soaked shirt at the end of their sparing sessions, so he clearly wasn’t the only one affected by Steve’s general perfect alphaness.

And then, on that fateful movie night, when everyone had gone back to their quarters and it was just Steve and Tony in the common room, and Tony had been slightly tipsy and thought it would be hilarious to make a pass at Captain America, just to see him blush and stutter his way of this one, Steve – not Captain America –, Steve had stared at Tony with the clearest blue eyes he had ever seen and looked considering.

“I don’t know, would you be okay with being on top?”

And Tony’s first thought had been: _On top of your dick? Anytime, pal_. And his second thought had been: _Wait, what?_ And his third thought had been: _What the actual fuck is happening?_

“Sure. I’m up for anything. That’s actually the title of the piece Oprah Magazine did on me in ‘08: ‘Tony Stark: Up for Anything’. I’ll email it to you.”

At the time, Steve had given him the same exasperated look he always had when Tony opened his mouth for anything that wasn’t Avengers-related. And often for things that were Avengers-related. It wasn’t until later, when Tony had been shoved against the bar, riding Steve’s clothed thigh like a pony while Steve whispered how he wanted Tony to get inside him and fuck him, that he had realized how monumentally off the bat he had been.

Because Steve was no blushing maiden, not when it came down to sex. He knew what he was doing and he did it well. Apparently, he took that go-big-or-go-home-except-you-can’t-because-giving-up-is-not-an-option mentality that he had on the battlefield and brought it with him inside the bedroom. Which was more than fine with Tony. Really, among all the drugs he had done throughout his life as eccentric millionaire playboy, he had never experienced anything more intoxicating than having his nose full of alpha scent while Steve spread his thighs under him, working himself on Tony’s dripping cock, shivering and trembling and biting his lips red, not commanding, not ordering, not demanding, but simply giving himself openly as he looked up at Tony with hooded eyes. Because when you were born an omega, you knew you were at the bottom of the pyramid, and you knew that no matter your gender or status or wealth, you would always be the one getting taken, not the one taking. So to have Steve Rogers, of all people, giving himself to Tony, of all people, letting Tony get inside him and take and take and take, take his pleasure, take his time, take his orgasms, take his sighs and moans and groans and swallow them inside his mouth, it was the best feeling in the world.

And naturally, he had offered to let Steve take him in return, several times, had told him that with the modern wonders of birth control, Steve could take him any way he wanted. But Steve had frowned, as if Tony had offered him a live grenade instead of his ass:

“It’s not pregnancy I’m worried about.”

“Oh, you afraid to pop a knot? Don’t worry, the second half of the 20th century took care of that too. Three words: knot-proof condoms. Well, two words. I’m not sure. Anyway, they have this special shape to contain the knot so there is no skin-on-skin contact. No skin contact, no bonding. Yay to commitment-free sex and emotionally-detached hookups. You can thank the 80s for that one. Well, that and good rock music.”

But Steve had simply frowned some more and shaken his head. Which Tony understood, of course. Back before the sexual revolution of the 60s and 70s, penetrative sex with an alpha was a serious matter. Accidents happened and popping a knot – or clamping down on a partner for the alpha ladies – without meaning to was as life-altering as a pregnancy. Bond-breaking wasn’t allowed back then, and even today it was still far trickier than a divorce which could be up and done with by the simple stroke of a pen. So, Tony got it. Steve had cold feet about getting inside him, which was understandable from someone who had grown up knowing that penetrating a partner meant possibly knotting them and being bonded for life. Message received. Loud and clear. No problemo.

Except that Tony had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t getting _inside_ Tony that was giving Steve cold feet, but rather the idea of getting inside _Tony_. Steve’s file didn’t mention a bond mate, not even a partner, but Tony had a feeling, a feeling which he would never share out loud not only because asking someone whether they were grieving a bond mate was deeply rude and intrusive, but also because he didn’t want to know the answer. Steve obviously liked getting fucked by an omega, had obviously done it before judging from the way he was as comfortable handling Tony’s slick and flush and oversensitivity as he was handling his shield. And from Tony’s research, there had been two dark-haired, spit-fired, try-me-and-it-will-be-the-last-thing-you-do omegas in Steve’s entourage before his time in the ice. Peggy Carter and Bucky Barnes. Tony was ready to bet that if Steve had been bonded to someone, it would have been one of these two. Hell, it could have been both since poly-bonding hadn’t been outlawed in the States until the 50s. In any case, Tony wasn’t about to open that particular can of worms, wasn’t even about to touch it with his suit on.

Instead, he was just fucking, dating and slowly falling in love with Steve. Because that was so much better than plainly asking him if he was still carrying a torch that had been lit more than half a century ago.

 _So. Much. Better._ Tony thought as he panted into the pillow, gorging himself on Steve’s clean scent – green apples and fresh snow, memories of mulled wine and white furs in front of roaring fireplaces and Christmases in Switzerland flashing behind his eyelids – as he was being rocked back and forth by Steve’s thrusts against his ass, the searing tip of his cock throbbing every time it caught on his hole on its way down, and then back up again.

Distantly, among the cascades of shivers that ran up and back his spine in perfect synchronization with the slow drag of Steve’s cock, Tony became aware of the fact that he was getting wet. He could feel the telltale signs, the tingles in his lower abdomen, and then further down, where his dick was steadily dripping slick, gently at first, and then more profusely, soaking the sheet under him and making him slide toward the headboard every time Steve’s body rocked him forward, until Tony had to physically brace himself against those thrusts. Steve’s own stomach was probably equally slick by now, from where he was rubbing at the place where Tony was the wettest, up and down and up again.

In the complete obscurity of the bedroom, it felt like all of Tony’s other senses were heightened. Steve’s labored breathing was deafening in his ear, and every time his hands moved on Tony’s hips, getting slippery with sweat, it felt like being lit on fire and struck by lightning at the same time. Tony registered dimly that all it would take was a well-aimed thrust and Steve could slide inside him without much resistance. Hell, with the way he could feel his inner-muscles throbbing rhythmically with Steve’s grinding, he would probably get sucked right in. Swallowed up, like a vacuum effect.

Tony clenched his fists, his teeth, his asshole. Anything to remind him that this wasn’t where it was going. Steve only had one rule, just the one, and it was that he wouldn’t fuck Tony. It was nothing compared the endless list of demands and pet-peeves and ultimatums that Tony had given him. He didn’t like to be handed things, didn’t like to be cuddled except for the few minutes it took for the afterglow to dissipate, he only wanted to go to the cinema if he booked the whole screening for himself, he insisted that the only respectable way to have sushi was to fly to Japan, he refused to have anyone tell him how long he could go without sleeping or eating or showering or leaving his lab, and for the first few weeks of their relationship, he wouldn’t even let Steve sleep in his bed, sending him back to his own floor of the Tower like a bad booty-call. And Steve, kind, patient, understanding, perfect Steve would just take it all in stride, taking notes of every single one of Tony’s quirks and filing them away in a corner of his mind, as if they were perfectly reasonable rules to follow instead of the spoiled tantrums of a despotic child. Steve and Tony took a long time to get along, and even today he still got angry and frustrated at Tony’s cockiness and extravagance, at his disregard for authority or the line of command (and by that he meant Steve himself), at his reckless behavior on the field, at how he kept flying solo in spite of the fact that they were a team. But when it came to the two of them, when it came to their relationship, every one of Tony’s extravagances became word of law. His insecurities and boundaries were never to be pushed or even acknowledged longer than the time it took Steve to understand that things were off-limits. He took it all in stride and trusted Tony with his most intimate secrets and desires, with stuff that most alphas would never even admit to liking. He was shameless in his love of having Tony between his legs, Tony inside him, in his ass, in his mouth, in his hands. He simply gave himself up, leaping in the air, and expected Tony to catch him like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and still did today, in spite of the fact that Tony had let him down more than once. And how did Tony repay him? By fantasizing about the one thing Steve had made off-limits. Because that was Tony for you, always pushing people away while still being elbows-deep inside them, clawing at their hearts and emotions as if they were DUM-E’s circuitry. Because he was selfish and greedy and never satisfied and always wanted more than he could or should have, and if one thing was for sure it was that he didn’t deserve someone like Steve, who kept forgiving him and being near him, and oh God Tony loved him.

“God, I love you,” he blurted, his face pressed into the pillow that he was gripping with both hands.

Steve’s grinding came abruptly to a halt, his body frozen over Tony’s, his fingers pressing bruises on his hips, and Tony realized that he had said those words out loud.

Seconds passed with nothing but silence, a silence so heavy that none of them dared breathe or move, as if the slightest sound could somewhat detonate the grenade that Tony had carelessly thrown between them. When seconds turned into minutes, Tony realized that he didn’t share Steve’s inhumane ability to hold his breath and the sound of his own shaky inhale was loud as a gunshot in the stifling darkness of the bedroom. Ultimately, Steve unclasped each of his fingers from Tony’s hips, so slowly and carefully that he might as well have been disarming a bomb, and he slowly rolled on his back next to Tony, who was calculating how fast he could asphyxiate himself with a pillow before Steve tried to stop him. At least he would die surrounded by the scent of fresh snow and green apples, he thought, before realizing that he had just reached a new level of pathetic, which was certainly a surprise considering the words that had escaped his mouth just moments ago. But, again, that was Tony Stark for you, forever breaking boundaries in science, wealth and mortifying levels of embarrassment.

Just as Tony was considering making a run for it and locking himself in his lab for the rest of his existence – or, more realistically, until Pepper came to get him for the next annual board meeting of Stark Industries – Steve cleared his throat.

Tony braced himself. For what, he wasn’t entirely sure. A gentle let down was the most obvious hypothesis, though an awkward conversation about feelings was just as possible and equally dreadful. Least likely was the probability of Steve getting angry with him, but it still had to be taken into consideration. After all, Tony had been the one pushing barriers and obstacles in front of their relationship, fucking up at every single opportunity and generally reminding Steve that he was not boyfriend material. And here he was, blurting out love declarations in the middle of sex like a goddamn teenager having his dick wet for the first time.

But instead, what he heard was:

“So, do you want to talk about it or would you like us to pretend nothing happened and just keep on screwing?”

 _Language_ , Tony thought reflexively. And then, when he registered Steve’s actual words, when he realized that Steve – Steve who never backed down from a fight, Steve who never gave up, Steve who liked to remind everyone that _he could do this all day_ –, Steve was giving him an out. He was being handed a goddamn joker, a reset button, a get-out-of-jail free card. They could go back to the way things were before Tony vomited his heart all over their relationship, they could go back to peaceful days and fun dates and mind-blowing sex and quiet nights. Steve was giving them a chance to go past Tony’s anxiety and absence of filter and multiple daddy issues and general neurosis.

God, Tony wanted to marry him.

He answered hurriedly, before this particular thought also found its way out into the world:

“The second option, please.”

Steve huffed, either a quiet laugh or a sigh, Tony couldn’t say.

“Then get to work, soldier.”

Tony scrambled across the sheets, fumbling in the dark until he found his way in his third favorite place in the world: between Steve’s legs (his second favorite place being his lab, and his first being between Steve’s legs on the couch in his lab). He grabbed Steve’s bent knees with his palms and slowly slid down his hands underneath his thighs, until he reached that soft patch of skin where his legs met his ass. Even in pitch blackness, Tony knew exactly what he was looking at. He had spent so long tracing Steve’s skin with his fingertips that even with his eyes closed he could picture all that expense of smooth golden skin perfectly. He pressed forward until the tip of his cock met Steve’s entrance, and right on cue Steve’s breathing started getting fast and shallow, because nothing got him more hot and bothered than this.

“What are you even getting from this?” Tony asked, because apparently all that expensive liquor he had gotten out for Rhodey’s birthday had disintegrated what little brain-to-mouth filter he had left.

“What?”

Steve’s voice sounded unfocused and even a little pained from where he had been trying to wiggle his way onto Tony’s cock, rocking down in tiny little movements. Tony hardened his grip on the curve of his ass in response, not letting him set the rhythm just yet. He knew that Steve wouldn’t break out of his grip right now, not until Tony got inside him and got his angle just right.

“This. Us. _Me_.” And he punctuated the last word with a small thrust forward, getting Steve all nice and slick. “All I do is let you down and embarrass myself in bed. So, what are you getting out of this?”

Maybe, just maybe, Tony was trying to distract Steve from how seriously he meant these questions by teasing him, pressing up snuggly against him to hear his breath catch underneath him, and pulling out immediately, never going inside.

He did that little trick three more times before Steve realized that he wasn’t getting anywhere until he got an answer.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about this,” he shot back, and Tony could hear him trying to compose himself, gripping Tony’s biceps to refrain the full-body shudders that kept running through him. Deciding that was just unacceptable, Tony started pushing inside for real, and they both groaned loudly when the head of his dick breached him. He stopped right then, and clutched fingers around the curve of Steve’s ass, which was getting slippery with sweat and Tony’s own slick.

“Well I don’t, not about _that_. But, you know, why are we still together when I obviously keep fucking up emotionally and disappointing you sexually?” He struggled to keep his voice light and careless.

Steve obviously didn’t share his concern for dignity and was just plain moaning under him, squeezing his inner muscles and making Tony hiss in the process.

“I told you already, I don’t think it’s disappointing, just fl-”

“Yeah, yeah, flattering, you said that before,” Tony gritted and he let his head rest on the hollow of Steve’s throat, gripping Steve’s cheeks to spread them wider and got him down on his cock, inch by inch. “Well, get ready sweetheart, ‘cos you’re gonna feel real flattered in about two minutes.”

When Tony bottomed out, he didn’t know which one of them groaned like a wild animal. Probably both of them.

Immediately, he started pumping his hips and guided Steve’s ass upward with his hands. Because Tony might not be able to do anything to prevent the hyper stimulation that came with being an omega, but he could damn well make sure that Steve enjoyed this as much as possible.

 _Quick but efficient_ , he thought as he hit the jackpot and Steve’s spine arched off the bed, trapping his erection against their stomachs. _Quick but efficient_ , that’s all he needed to aim at. He was never going to last long, he could already feel the heat pooling down in his lower abdomen and his toes were starting to curl in pleasure, but he could still get Steve mostly there. _Quick but efficient._

Except that all got thrown out the window when Steve’s hand slid down his back and between his cheeks. Considering Steve’s enhanced aim and muscle memory, Tony really needed to stop being surprised at how effortlessly he slid two fingers into his soaked hole and immediately found his prostate. He came, with a low whine and a tremor that shook him from head to toe, making the rhythm of his hips falter and stutter to a halt.

When he finally stopped trembling after what felt like seconds but could have been a few minutes of black out, he rolled his sweaty forehead off Steve’s throat and sighed dejectedly:

“Now, see, why would you do something like that? Here I am, trying to show you a good time and you keep making me jump the gun. I’m starting to think maybe you don’t really like sleeping with me, seeing how fast you want me to be done.”

Steve’s chest rumbled with a silent laugh, and he cradled Tony’s face between his hands, bringing him up into a kiss as his hips kept undulating on Tony’ softening erection. When he spoke, his voice was low and husky, sending a fresh wave of shivers down Tony’s spine:

“I told you, I love making you come. It makes me feel good about myself.”

Tony snorted. “Right, as if you needed-”

“I love you too.”

And _that_ shut Tony right up.

He swallowed the lump he could feel forming in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could prevent Steve and his night vision from seeing the look on his face.

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about it,” he muttered, and immediately kissed Steve hard and dirty on the lips. Rings. He needed to go buy rings. He couldn’t design them, because his good eye for weapons and machines and armors were wasted on something as delicate as jewelry, but he could go to the best jewelers in America. Hell, in the world. He could ask Happy and Rhodey to come with. And of course, he would send pictures to Pepper to get her opinion, because Tony’s tastes leaned toward anything red, gold and with flames painted on the side, so obviously he would need her. He already needed her to do everything else for him, what was one more thing.

“I know,” Steve murmured against his lips when Tony finally broke their kiss. “So let’s not talk about it.” And here, he clenched down on Tony’s spent cock, making both of them gasp.

“Right,” Tony said, and then cleared his throat to hide the quiver in his voice. “Right. I’m gonna blow you now. If that’s alright with you. Possibly get a few fingers in, maybe rim you a bit. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed and his fingers carded through Tony’s hair, pressing down with just the slightest pressure. Tony gave himself a two-minute window to make him lose control and fuck Tony’s mouth like he was in rut, because he was in his forties and his cardiologist had told him to keep challenging himself. Of course, Dr. Kowalski probably meant more like running a marathon or taking up Pilates, but surely fucking all the self-control out of Captain America counted as healthy exercise.

Tony kissed and sucked his way down Steve’s body and just as he reached his neglected cock, he shot back up again, wrenching a frustrated moan out of the blonde.

“Say it one more time. Please.”

“I love you. Now get down there. _Please_.”

Tony grinned in the dark, and slithered back down.

“JARVIS, give us some light. I’m gonna need to see what I’m doing for this.”

 _Gold,_ Tony thought later on, as he was bobbing his head up and down, his throat relaxing and his fingers curling at just the right angle to make Steve’s hips jerk upward. Because Steve was a traditionalist and it would complement his skin tone quite well. It didn’t matter whether Steve didn’t want to get inside him, to knot him, to bond with him. Tony knew himself well enough to know he wasn’t the bonding type. Too much pressure, too much commitment, too much risk for a lifetime of heartbreak.

But marriage, a civil union. That he could handle. And there might just be the tiniest chance that Steve would say yes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Any comment and/or opinion on this will be deeply appreciated :)
> 
> I might create a series dedicated to this pairing and unusual alpha/omega dynamic, perhaps with a few flashbacks on how Tony and Steve's relationship started, as well as a few sequels on how their relationship will evolve. If it happens, it might even turn into a Tony/Steve/Bucky pairing. Feel free to tell me what you think!


End file.
